


night channels

by stilinskitrash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breakup, Clarke-centric, F/M, Love Letters, Past Bellamy Blake/Echo - Freeform, Swearing, octavia and raven briefly mentioned, some fluff if u squint, this is really just angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskitrash/pseuds/stilinskitrash
Summary: It was an old shoe box, with his name stamped on the top in his scrawled, messy handwriting. Bellamy. Her eyes watered, fingers ghosting over the lettering. Why had this been left behind? Inside, she found letters. Tens of envelopes, sealed, with no names on, only some dates. Clarke burned with curiosity. She ripped open a letter at random, hoping she wouldn't feel ridiculous when it was just a bank slip or tax form.It was addressed to her.





	night channels

**Author's Note:**

> this is not beta-d and not my best work, if anything it is a mid-exam angsty vent piece of writing based on a prompt from tumblr but i hope u enjoy it anyway  
> title from the song of the same name by foxing

“i found your box of letters underneath my bed last night and because i’m a nosy motherfucker i decided to read them and it turns out they were all addressed to me and the last one was dated the day you moved out and i’m not quite sure why i thought this would be a good idea but here i am, standing on your doorstep, wondering why the fuck we’re not together anymore” AU

  
  


She wasn't sure she’d ever get used to her empty apartment. 

It had been a month since he’d moved out, and Clarke was worryingly close to buying a pet. Maybe a dog. Anything to compensate for the frightening silence she came home to. Everything seemed too big and too empty with his absence; her bed, mainly. A dog would solve that too, dog cuddles in bed sounded pretty great.

The breakup had been her fault, really. Clarke had enough issues for the both of them – add on Bellamy’s baggage and the pair were practically a bomb waiting to go off. At least, that’s what Raven had said. She just hasn't expected it to go off the way it did.

And wished it hadn't happened the way that it did.

Clarke ordered a pizza and crashed on the couch in her underwear and a shirt he’d left behind. She felt reasonably pathetic (but it was warm and it still smelt like him). Her phone had turned into a dangerous temptation, and she had yet to remove him from her speed dial.

If she were ever in trouble, would he pick up? Would he still care enough to be there for her? 

She google searched for the nearest dogs home.

After demolishing the pizza, binging some trash TV and fawning over a puppy at a nearby shelter she found called Olive, she retired to bed. (Their bed. He’d picked it out with her.) Clarke’s mind was particularly distracted with self pity tonight, and she desperately needed further distraction.

They'd used to hoard books under the bed, where it was easy to just grab one, and for when he would indulge Clarke by reading her to sleep. His hands would comb through her hair gently, his voice lowering to a soothing tone as he recited the words on the page. 

She scrambled around blindly under the bed for something to read. He’d reclaimed most of his books, as she’d expected he would. He’d managed to leave behind tshirts and an array of random paraphernalia, but not the books. In fact, it was the first thing he had packed when he moved out.

Clarke’s hands eventually found something large and made of cardboard, causing her to frown. _Definitely_ not a book. Curiously, she dragged it out, blowing away the dust lamenting on top of it.

It was an old shoe box, with his name stamped on the top in his scrawled, messy handwriting. _Bellamy_ . Her eyes watered, fingers ghosting over the lettering. Why had this been left behind? _In his rush to leave, he must have forgotten this too,_ Clarke explained away in her mind. She hauled it onto the bed; it was pretty hefty.

Inside, she found letters. Tens of envelopes, sealed, with no names on, only some dates. Clarke burned with curiosity. He hadn't come back for them, maybe he didn't want them. She’d already lost most of her self respect – she ripped open a letter at random, hoping she wouldn't feel ridiculous when it was just a bank slip or tax form.

It was addressed to her.

  


_Dear Clarke,_  

_Today you tried to make lasagne. I admired your effort, really, but we ended up ordering takeout and I know you hate losing but I love your tenacity, and your willingness to try new things. Truth is, I make a pretty mean lasagne, but I didn't want to show you up._

_Then you put up with another history programme per my request about the city of Troy, and you fell asleep halfway through on my chest. I didn't have the heart to wake you up, so I carried you to bed. That's where you are now. I'm in the kitchen, wondering how I got so goddamn lucky and worrying about what I may do to screw this up. But optimism, right?_

_Bellamy_

  


“Fuck.” She whispered out loud, fingers gripping the page tight. It was written on a piece of lined paper torn out from a notebook. As she dug through, she found letters of all sizes scrawled on all sorts of scrap paper, like the backs of tickets or on napkins, on ripped out newspaper or postcards.

Half trembling, she opened another.

 

 

_Clarke,_

_You’re not home right now and I miss you like crazy. How ridiculous is that? We’re together almost every hour of the day but you leave to visit your mom for a while and suddenly I feel like the loneliest man in the goddamn world. I don’t get how guys put on a front of celebrating when their partner leaves for a bit. You don't need to leave for me to know I can go out and have fun with my friends without you. It’s when you do leave that I can’t have fun, that it drives me crazy thinking about how far away you are. I wish Apple would hurry up and invent some device that means I can hold you all the way across the country. I mean, that might be a little creepy for some so maybe not. But you get my point._

_I guess there’s also the part of me that’s still sewing myself back together mentally from the relationships where I got fucked over, where I wasted energy missing someone who wasn’t missing me. Of course I know you’re not like that. Of course I trust you. It doesn’t mean I trust my own mind though. But you gotta know that I’m trying so fucking hard and hearing your voice on the phone this evening was almost like a prayer. And god, god, I’m such a sinner and you don’t even realise._

_You’re too good for me and I know it, everyone knows it. Hell, you know it, so don’t lie to yourself, princess. I’d rewrite the stars to let you know how much you mean to me._

_Come home soon._

  


Fat teardrops rolled off her cheeks and onto the paper, smudging the ink. She tried panickedly to dry it, making it worse in the process as her breath hitched. Clarke rubbed the palms of her hands against her eyes, staring down at the letters in her possession with disbelief and fright. Fright, that these were the contents of Bellamy’s mind he’d never shared with her, an insight into the rise and collapse of their relationship through his eyes.

Even just reading two of them had her wracked with guilt. Yes, they were addressed to her, but more hypothetically than with actual delivery intention. Bellamy had been using these letters for months as a diary, pouring his heart out to her. Why couldn’t he have done this in person?

Her stomach was filled with butterflies that made her nauseous as she tenderly picked up another letter. It was smaller, not properly sealed.

  


_c,_

_i love you so fucking much im worried it’ll swallow me whole. maybe it already has._

  


There was another not even in an envelope; a ticket for the subway, with words etched in the gaps.

  


_stop looking at me like I put the stars in the sky when you know damn well I’d tear them all down just for you._

  


A dark crimson envelope held a longer letter, in handwriting that was hardly discernible. It looked like he’d done it drunk, or at least not of sober mind.

  


_princess,_

 

_you turned up to the bar with him. HIM. of all people. HIM. he was so cocky and self absorbed, I saw you ask him to dance. I saw him reject you. I would have danced with you, the whole fuckin bar would have danced with you dressed like you were. so stunning without even trying. so that’s meaning he’s an asshole. he thinks he’s all that just cause he’s had like, one run in with the law. if you wanted a bad boy princess, I’m right here???? and I’m not a poser. if you were mine we could dance all fucking night long. he doesn’t even know what music you like he just assumes EVERYONE LIKES HIS. which is WRONG, no one wants to listen to linkin park THAT MANY TIMES. and I LIKE linkin park. so fuck him for making me annoyed at linkin park. I’m so angry and not 100% sober that I’m literally thinking of that goddamn taylor swift song octavia was obsessed with a few years ago in her tween phase. the one where she’s herself and she’s a brunette in the music video. u know the one. that’s what you do to me. taylor swift references. god clarke I wish you felt the way I feel about you, I wish I could call you mine but ruining our friendship with my feelings seems counterproductive. I should probably go help jasper now I think he just threw up in my sink._

  


It must’ve been from before they were even together. Clarke clasped a hand to her mouth as she hiccuped a mixture between a sob and a laugh. He hadn’t known how into him she’d been, how worried she’d been of saying anything and risking their dynamic, and destroying what they already had.

Somehow that had happened regardless.

Another letter begged to be read.

  


_I broke up with Echo today and I lied to you about why._

_Which made me feel shit. Being dishonest with you is something I never do, because I appreciate and value our honesty more than most things. We both hate liars and now the thought of you hating me is consuming me. But this is a thing I couldn’t bring myself to tell you._

_It wasn’t your fault. How could it have been? You didn’t even know Echo (although I know you don’t like her) and you sure as hell never interfered with our relationship. Despite that, Echo used you as a reason for the split. She claimed I cared more about my friendship with you than my relationship with her, and that I should choose. Choose between my best friend and my girlfriend._

_I probably shouldn’t have, but I ended up laughing in her face, which was a reflex because for a moment I genuinely thought she was kidding. I didn’t mean to be an asshole._

_Is it bad I’m not sad about the breakup? I feel guilt, because I know I could’ve treated Echo better, but it wasn’t like she was perfect either, especially after the fight with Octavia. We’d been cracking and tearing at the seams for a few weeks. You weren’t the catalyst but you were the final straw, apparently._

_I just don’t think at this point I could date anyone who didn’t respect me and you, meaning the relationship we have. You’re an integral part of my life, just like O or Miller and a relationship with someone where my time with you gets limited isn’t one I want a part of. I know you just want me to be happy, what if the best version of my happiness is with you? Do you feel the same?_

_Anyway Echo is coming to pick up the stuff she left at mine in a while so I better go._

_Looking to you, princess._

_Bell_

  


Clarke remembered Echo all too well. She almost laughed again at Bellamy’s interpretation of her feelings towards his ex.

At the time, she’d felt disproportionately protective towards Bellamy at the idea of him having someone who wasn’t her, someone to call and have meaningless chit chat with, to watch movies with and go for long walks. It was discomforting, because she knew her feelings were a little more than platonic by then, but it was definitely not the time to say anything if Bellamy was happy with Echo. Several months of passive aggressive conversations, awkward trio scenarios between them and Clarke’s festering crush on Bellamy ensued.

But knowing that they split _because_ of Clarke? That was news to her.

She carefully picked up another addressed to her, now more tender in her opening of them with fear of ruining something important of precious.

  
  


_Today is the anniversary of when Jake died. It was a hard day, and knowing you chose to spend it with me was all kinds of heartbreaking. You slept over at mine the night before and I hadn’t even realised what the next day was, which made me feel shitty as hell. Your reluctance to go back to your apartment had confused me but it all made sense. No one should be alone if they don’t want to be, not when they’re grieving._

_You slept in my bed, insisting I don’t take the couch and it wasn’t the first time we’ve shared a bed but it was by far the most intimate. I could just feel your body curled up against my back, and I was so still with fear of the moment disappearing. Which was selfish. But I was glad to bring you an ounce of comfort._

_The moment I realised why you were acting so weird, was at breakfast. You left your phone on the table when you went to the bathroom and my eyes caught on your phone screen as it lit up. Nosy, I know. Sorry. It was a reminder to “visit dad” and my heart felt like it was falling out of my chest. I didn’t say anything when you returned, but I didn’t need to when you asked if we could go for a walk._

_We visited the cemetery. You stopped by along the way to buy some flowers as I struggled with the words to say. Our relationships with our deceased parents were both too different, I wasn’t sure anything that helped me grieve would help you. When we reached the headstone, your hand grasped for mine and I squeezed it so hard as I listened to you cry beside me. That sounds bad on paper, but I wanted to let you take the time you needed. Once you’d calmed down there wasn’t a breath of hesitation between the time it took me to envelope you in my arms. That’s such a natural place for me. You in my arms._

_We went back to my place and we got unreasonably drunk. When you’re drunk you’re always pushing your hair out of your face and scrunching up your nose when you take shots and sometimes I forget you’re not the only person in this world. There was one moment I remember, where I was sure you were going to kiss me, but I would've been a villain for taking advantage of you in the state you were in. Eventually, I forced us to sober up and I let you fall asleep against me on the couch, another selfish act._

_You drool a little when you sleep but it’s endearing. Or maybe I’m just that in love with you._

 

_Bellamy x_

  


Clarke remembered that day. It was nearly two years ago, a few months before they actually got together. The anniversary of her father’s death was always hard and usually lonely. With her mother was the last place she wanted to be. When Bellamy had invited her over for a Star Wars marathon, she’d found herself panicked at the thought of going home. Home to an empty bed in an empty apartment. 

Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, she picked up another.

 

 

_Dear Clarke,_

_That blew up, huh?_

_I love you so much, it tears me apart. I won't lie, hearing those four words from your mouth hurt. They hurt like a bitch because the idea of you not loving me has become a foreign idea, but only after months of telling myself otherwise. The funny thing is, when you said it, I didn't believe you._  

_Now, I don’t think I can confidently convince myself otherwise. Staying here is just causing the poison in my mind to leak into everything else. We’re both burning too bright too fast for this to have worked much longer, no matter how desperately I want you in my life, and how I know I won’t be able to let go of you._

_So I’m letting go of me for you, meaning I’m leaving. I know you need time and space and you don’t need or want me right now. If you told me to fuck off I would, but your indecisiveness is killing me, which is why I’m making the decision._

_I love you even if you don’t love me. Which is the crazy, cruel part. I used to hate loving. For a long time I only really loved O. I think I loved my mom at one point but it’s hard to separate dependence from love when it’s someone like the person that she was. Would I have loved her if she wasn’t my mother?_

_Letting myself fall in love you was the most selfish thing I ever did. I ruined us both. I took your pain and poured mine on top. Now it’s boiled over and we’re wrecked and the overwhelming responsibility is eating me alive. Our relationship was so flammable that an argument over a place to eat transformed into a breakup. How crazy is that? We’re too volatile, too emotional and too wound up in each other._  

 _You know your mom called me once? She didn’t think I was right for you. I’ve not agreed with your mom on anything really, except that. There and then I told her ma’am, you’re right. But not trying to be enough for her would be a discredit to us both. And I’ll be damned if I don’t try._  

_God, Clarke, I tried._

_If the last thing you ever want to hear from me is the truth, the truth is that I tried so hard I fooled myself into thinking this could work forever._

_When you wake up I’ll be gone, because I can’t bear to watch your face fall further when I tell you I’m leaving. Remember how I said I hate lying to you? I’m not really leaving, and maybe the things I leave behind are an optimistic notion that I’ll come back some day when we can be enough for each other._

_I think I’ll love you for eons, Clarke Griffin._  


 

 

The tears wouldn't come. Clarke felt dried up.

She felt suffocated, weighed down by the overwhelming truth and love that was spilling from the page into her hands. The box wasn’t even half read, but she was sure the letter she’d just seen was the last one he’d written. She didn’t want to read anymore. Her chest was heaving with the desperation to yell at him that he was _fucking wrong._ He was always the one that was too good for her, that she was never enough or whole enough for him.

Her alarm clock glowed the red outline of 2:05AM.

Clarke called a taxi.

She hadn’t seen him in person in a month. She hadn’t been to his apartment in longer. When he’d moved out of hers, it was pure luck that his old apartment was still available to rent. This information she’d acquired from Octavia, who was pissed at being the main connection between the two right now, but secretly fine with it being better than radio silence. 

The light of his living room was a dull glow on the third floor. Bellamy was a night owl, usually enraptured in a book or TV show, spending more time sleeping on his couch than in his bed. She didn’t think to grab a jacket before leaving, but was sure her trembling was more out of nerves than the chilly autumn weather. 

Hesitantly, Clarke buzzed the button that connected to his apartment. She stepped back, looking back up at his window.

What was she planning on saying? This was dangerously impulsive. The idea of being rejected made her feel nauseous, even if she knew she’d ultimately respect his reasons why. Clarke stared through the translucent glass of the foyer door as a blurred figure descended the stairs slowly, her heart rate increasing as panic became her primary emotion.

 _I just want to see you, I need to see you_ , her mind repeated like a mantra, the form of Bellamy Blake becoming clearer as he approached the door. At this point he must have seen her, in fact, she could’ve sworn his movements slowed further.

The door clicked, bringing him into full view as she waited on the bottom doorstep.

He was more stubbly. A worn ARK University hoodie hugged his broad shoulders, and he ran a hand through his hair that hadn’t been cut since god knows when. She couldn’t read his expression, but his eyes were trained on her.

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice came as a further shock to her, having not heard it in weeks. Stupidly, she felt as if her whole body ached at the mention of her name from his lips, her mouth falling open silently.

“Clarke, are you okay?” He stepped towards her, his brows knitting together with a look of concern that made her chest tighten. “You’re hardly wearing anything.”

 _You’re enough, you’re enough, you’re enough_. Her face rose and fell with the words her throat wouldn’t let her say. Bellamy seemed to be growing increasingly worried.

“The song,” she managed after what felt like years of silence, “it’s You Belong With Me.” _What?_ Of all the things to take from those letters, _that?_

“Excuse me?” Bellamy arched a brow. 

“The song that you couldn’t remember. It was You Belong With Me. By Taylor Swift.”

His expression faltered but Clarke could feel the words bubbling up inside of her.

“To say I miss you would be insulting, Bellamy. I don’t _just_ miss you. I miss you and I fucking _love_ you. I’d understand if you’re doing good without me now, it would even make me happy to know you were doing well, but I fucked up. It’s taken me a month to confront all of this because I was fine with accepting the blame, but knowing that you felt the way that I did? That you blamed yourself? That shit’s not fair, Bellamy. It’s not fair. I could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve you.”

She shook her head, laughing humorlessly as Bellamy seemed to have turned statuesque, rooted to the top step as his face fell. 

“You are more than enough.” Clarke ventured further, stepping until she was an arms reach away. It felt like miles. “How can I fix this, Bell? Even if it’s you wanting me to leave, just tell me what I can do. You’ll tear down the stars? Well, I’ll burn them all.”

They stood locked in standoff that made Clarke feel like she was internally collapsing. Her fingers itches to wrap around his, but she wouldn’t move until she was sure it was okay with Bellamy.

“What a pair we are.” He spoke finally, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as his eyes softened. “I’d never want you to leave. That’s why _I_ left, because I know my self control around you; I don’t have any. And none of this is your fault. It takes two to tango, right?” He grinned and it was infectious, spreading warmth through her cheeks and bringing her closer towards him.

“And, for the record,” his arm reached for Clarke, snaking around her waist as she allowed herself to be pulled forward as if by a magnet. “I fucking love you too.”

“Please come home.” She whispered, gripping his shirt with fear of him slipping away.

Bellamy dipped down to reach her, tender and taking the time to linger on her bottom lip as he pulled away. His hands rubbed her back soothingly, and Clarke felt like melting into his chest.

“I never really left.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if u found this at least mildly entertaining, kudos would make me v happy  
> catch me on tumblr! stacygwehn.tumblr.com


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